Today was my sister's birthday.
So, of course, I had a doctor's appointment. I have had an appointment nearly every birthday this year. I even had to have Rita drive me to one on her son's birthday, which was shameful. It was a drive I could normally make myself, but for whatever reason couldn't this time.
When I had this appointment come up on her birthday, a more difficult drive, and a case of take this appointment or wait three months for the next one, I knew I didn't want to do that to her on her day.
She probably wouldn't have minded too much. She likes to drive. She likes to help. And I could buy her lunch at one of her favorite places if she took me.
Unless, of course, she had other plans with friends, or lunch with Josh or Ron or something. Not impossible for her, and sometimes it feels like encroaching to ask -- an invasion of privacy, which is indeed a BIG DEAL to me.
Without consulting her, I decided my gift to her would be a day of respite from me and my not-so-pressing needs.
I could do this myself.
I would do this myself.
(And tell her about it later. I'm not completely altruistic.)
Appointment was afternoon, so car would be good for the trip. No rain or humidity. Not too chilly. Not too hot.
I had got both an address and directions from the office I was going to, with a predetermined idea of where it was, based on the numerical address and what I knew of the area.
So off I went.
Made good time. Took me 45 minutes to make a 45 minute drive, so that was good. Got me there about a half hour early, because I was unsure of exactly which building I was to go to, and those medical outbuildings can be clumped together in some really awkward and barely accessible configurations.
So I drove around.
And around.
And around.
And around some more.
I pulled up Google maps on my phone, and tried to get it to speak to me. I even remembered to turn the sound up on the phone so that I might be able to hear what it said. Yay me. (Too bad my car didn't want to assist me in hearing, but since I was mostly touring parking lots, I had plenty of freedom to pull over and recheck the directions.)
The directions given had me making the same round-and-rounds that I had already been on.
I came out, once again, onto the main entry point/parking lot, and I'll be darned if I didn't see a Rita's-type vehicle coming from the Mediplex to exit. And I wasn't even in Williamsburg, where another Rita-vehicle lives that I pass going to doctor.
This was a good one, too. It even had the Bengal plate on the front. I wondered if it had any other Bengals stuff on it, like hers, and the thought crossed my mind that it would be just my luck that she had been coming down there at this time anyway, and it would NOT have been an intrusion or a reliance that was an imposition.
Wouldn't that just be my luck?
That was my luck.
Oh well, odd as it was, it was a bit of good luck. She knew her way around down there, and she knew more about the entire area than I did, so maybe she could help me out.
She likes being able to help people out, so that could be my passive birthday gift to her maybe.
Although it was strange.
I gave her the address, she put it in her phone, I showed her what my phone was reading, and we set off with her leading me -- around in the same old big circuit I had already driven so many times. (That made me feel better. At least she was the same lost as me, based on the information I had.)
Finally, we stopped again, and she said, "we're gonna have to call them," so I looked up the number and called it. She thoughtfully spoke for me -- I am not good at voice communication, although I don't usually mess up this badly.
The result is that we were on the wrong damn road!
We got much better directions this time, and she volunteered to once again lead the way, for which I was grateful. Who knows what crazy loop-de-loop I'd end up on on this other road with the same possibilities of problems.
So my birthday present to Rita ended up being a gift to me -- of her presence.
As I waited for the doctor and entourage, I tried to think where I may have miscommunicated. And I do think I figured it out. The first directions I had got was from someone who asked me if I knew where the hospital was. I said I did, yes, straight down Beechmont and turn on Five Mile. (There's another turn -- which is the roundabout hill-climbing road I got lost on --and signs to follow, but I shortcutted those right out of the conversation.)
Anyway, she said "That's right, and our building number is 7575."
I turned right instead of left, and onto another road, when I should have turned left and stayed a minute. So I had input the number with the wrong road and therefore, since I did not know it was the wrong road, I spent over a half hour looking for an address that wasn't there. I also helped my sister get lost in this non-existent place.
Happy birthday, Rita, and I hope you can appreciate the fact that I tried to save you from me-dramedy on your own day.
